Kill Count: 44

Fresh food does a body and mind good.

For the first time since waking, I had food that didn't come out of a can that was 200+ years old. The robots in Greygarden are ok in my book. Programmed to autonomously care for the nursery they were assigned to, they have been going at it for over 200 years, so they are doing something right. Talking to "Supervisor White", it seems that not even raiders attack them. Even in this place, apparently people know a good thing when they see it. I exchanged a few handfuls of caps for a variety of vegetables and fruit that are now nicely tucked away in my pack. White asked me to clear out an old water treatment plant, but I felt the need to decline at the present moment. I explained my situation and offered to take care of the issue when I finished what I had to do. She, if a robot can really be a she, seemed to understand.

A little further down the hill I crossed the river and headed towards the old rail station at Oberland, knowing that a jog to the east from there would lead me into the city. I was surprised to find two women there that had set up a farm around the old station house. I need to be more careful on my approach to pretty much anywhere I am going as I get closer to the city. One approached me while the other one had me in the sights of her rifle more than a quarter mile away, at my best guess. When the first question is asking what it is I want and warning me that they are armed, well, that is different than the way I have found the raiders acting. These two were trying to forge a life here and meant to protect it. I respect that.

I explained to them what I was doing. They didn't need to know anything beyond that. Who I am is not important, neither is where I am from, though they figured that out fairly quickly due to the blue legs of the Vault 111 jumpsuit sticking out from under the leather jacket and the pipboy. They very graciously invited me to have breakfast with them and offered to let me sort through their clothing to see if there was anything that fit. I had noticed that the clothes that they were wearing looked a little big. I found a pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt to go with the leather jacket and there was even a pair of old hiking boots that were a size too big. Not wanting to take advantage of their kindness, I offered to pay them for the items I was taking. As it turns out, they had something else in mind.

The day before I arrived, they had been attacked by raiders. The raiders managed to do minor damage but got away with a good amount of their crop. The request was simple - could I do them a "favor" and get rid of the raiders. They knew that they were operating out of the old Back Street Apparel shop. I laughed because I knew exactly where it was. There was a bar that Nora and I had gone to near there and I remembered making rude comments about the trendy clothes they sold there as we walked by. It was right after a Sox game, so I also knew the way to the stadium from there.

I let them know that it wouldn't be a problem and they told me that they didn't think it would be for me. I put the .45 in one jacket pocket and the 10mm in the other. I slipped into the backpack and picked up the crap rifle. Going over it in my hands, the only thing I could think about in that moment was wanting something a little less improvised. I slapped a magazine into the make-shift weapon and loaded a round into the chamber. I turned east and I was off.

The shop was an easy clear, one frag grenade and about 30 rounds from the rifle, and it was done. Ten assholes, 30 rounds. Not to bad. I strapped the crap rifle to my pack after that and tossed a few other random weapons into the pack for barter later. What I had picked up pleased me greatly, close to 50 more shells for the sawed off 12g and a real combat rifle. I sat down in a chair I found on the roof of the shop and spent some time loading magazines and cleaning the weapon. All the crap I was picking up was turning out to be useful. I pulled out a rag and a old oil can and wiped down every part of the rifle. If it moved, it got extra oil. When I was done, I think I must have removed 50 years of grit from the weapon and sat there amazed that it had worked at all when it came into my possession. I sat there for a moment and looked at Fenway. My guess was that it was about 4-5 blocks, but I had the feeling that it was not going to be a leisurely stroll. I don't feel the need to go into detail about killing the 10 raiders in the shop. It was nothing spectacular, and I barely broke a sweat... what I do need to go into a little detail about is what happened before and what I was about to walk into.

I am sitting here feeling like an alien right now. I am in Diamond City. I am at a desk in a room at the Dugout Inn. A bar. There is a bar with rooms in the wasteland. There is electricity and I even ordered a meal that wasn't horrible. Everything feels pretty surreal. My introduction to the feral ghouls and "super mutants" just added to the bizarre nature of the day.

As I was entering the city and passing through the edge of a suburb, I heard rustling in a nearby house. After dealing with both settlers and raiders, sounds coming from shadows in a bombed out house felt a lot more like raiders setting up an ambush than settlers. I brought the rifle up to the ready and slowly moved forward. There was a guttural growl coming from the house now. I squinted to try to make out a shape in the shadows and thought I saw something move. I took aim and fired. No sooner had the first shot rang out and there were three of these things coming at me like they were shot out of a canon. I dropped one before the other two were on me scratching and biting at me. I reached into my pocket, pulled the 10mm and emptied half the mag into the one that was closest to my face... My god the reek... I kicked wildly at the other that was latched on to me and managed to break free of its grip. As it set itself to lunge at me again, I heard those now recognizable sounds coming from deeper within the house. I emptied the rest of the magazine into the one that was getting ready to pounce, dropped the empty and loaded a full. I backed away in a low crouch after recovering the crap rifle. This time when they came, I was ready for them. Though quick, they were horribly uncoordinated. I quickly learned that the fastest way to neutralize these bastards was to kneecap them. Once you do that, you can walk right up and pop them in the head. In less than 2 minutes I had killed 6 of these things that I was to find out once I got to the city were called feral ghouls. I remember Preston mentioning something about them, but I also remember failing to follow up on that.

My next surprise was moving from the shop to the stadium. I had to drop five or six more raiders before I made it to the first security checkpoints, but they were strangely vacant. I saw the "Diamond City this way" signs, but there were no guards. A lone machine gun turret tracked me as I walked past it. There were no shell casings on the ground. The sound of gunfire was echoing from a few blocks over, closer to the stadium. It took a minute or two to locate the source of the gunfire. There were four security guards dressed in umpire gear shooting up into a building at someone that was shooting back. Figuring that it might be a way to ingratiate myself with the locals, I ran over to help return fire. I tracked to where their bullets were landing and saw the biggest, ugliest green sonovabitch that I have ever laid my eyes on. I was happy to have the combat rifle. Aim. Breathe. Squeeze. I watched a chunk of his brain squeeze out of the back of his head when the .45 landed on his forehead. I saw his buddy stick his head around the corner and shifted the rifle a little to the left and ventilated his head as well.

With the threat dealt with, one of the guards came over, slapped me on the back and gave me an enthusiastic thanks. I asked him what the large green things were and he just laughed like I was joking. He pointed over at the rolled down grates in front of Fenway and told me to head on over to see about getting in. As I approached, I noticed a short woman yelling at the intercom. Apparently she was a resident that was locked out of the city by order of the mayor. Before I could get a word in, she gave me a finger to the lips sign, and started talking to me like I was a merchant. Quick on her feet and in trouble with local authorities... I liked her already. After a brief exchange between her and the mayor, she asked me to come by her office for an interview. I was still processing the ghouls and "super mutants" from earlier. When she repeated herself, I asked her about a place to sleep. That was when she introduced herself as Piper and told me to drop her name at The Dugout Inn for a room discount.

So now here I am, warm, fed and fresh from a hot shower. I feel about 90% human again. So far the plan for morning is breakfast and then a walk over to Piper's place for an interview and an attempt to convince her to help me snoop around for clues to where the hell my son might be.

Go me.